


Ghost of Qhristmas Future

by katesfire



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Future, Christmas, F/M, Inspired by Dickens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:00:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29725926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katesfire/pseuds/katesfire
Summary: Q shows up to give Chakotay a glimpse of his possible Christmas futures.
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway, Chakotay/Seven of Nine, Kathryn Janeway/Mark Johnson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 48





	Ghost of Qhristmas Future

**Author's Note:**

> I found this lurking on my hard drive. I guess I had forgotten about it because the date on it is January 4, 2012.
> 
> As always, thank you to my sister and beta, Cheile!

“Darling, can you bring me a towel?”

He scrubbed the sand from his eyes and looked around, trying to regain his equilibrium. Where in the hell was he? Beige-colored ceiling, silk, coffee-colored curtains blowing in the breeze and salty, ocean air invading his nostrils. He sat up in the mountain of covers. This was not a Starfleet issue bed or blankets. Slate grey and slightly coarse linen should have rubbed against his nude body, not chocolate colored satin.

“Chakotay, are you there?”

 _Kathryn_. He would recognize her voice in a crowded room. But where the hell were they? This was not Voyager and they weren’t on New Earth. He was completely lost. Not sure what else to do, he rolled out of the bed and looked for something to cover up with.

Then he heard the water turn off in the next room. Kathryn was in the _shower_. What in the hell was going on here? He peeked around the corner and saw her frosted outline through the glass panel of the shower. As she cracked the door, he stepped back out of sight. Why was he in a house, naked, with Kathryn, also naked, in the shower? His heart thundered in his ears and threatened to burst from his chest.

“Chakotay, I said I needed a towel,” she stated as she breezed into the room clad in nothing but water droplets. “Did you fall asleep? I can’t imagine why,” she smirked over her shoulder, pulling a towel from the replicator.

Chakotay couldn’t help but start at her. Milky skin with honey-colored freckles as smooth and flawless as the auburn hair that glistened as it fell almost to her waist; he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out where the hell he was, what the hell was going on and why in the Spirits names was Kathryn Janeway standing before him, nude, and not kicking him out of her… these weren’t her quarters.

“Chakotay, are you okay?”

“Kathryn, forgive me, this is going to sound a bit strange, but I don’t remember…” What? How he got there, what was going on, why they were nude in this room he had never seen before?

She gave him a concerned, confused look. “What don’t you remember?” she asked, placing a warm hand on his bicep.

He couldn’t help the reaction his body was having to her, the warmth that started in his groin and seemed to swell through his entire being. Instinct told him to shut up and take her right there on the bed; that he might wake up from this all-too real dream. His better judgment told him that something was seriously wrong. “I don’t know. The last thing I remember is going to bed, on Voyager, and then I woke up….here.”

She gazed at him, her blue eyes glistening with worry. “You don’t remember last night? Or even the last two hours?”

“Kathryn, what year is it?” he asked.

“It’s 2379, Chakotay. Surely you remember the party last night? And my telling you that we are going to have a baby, and…” she trailed off at the shock and surprise as it registered on his face. “You don’t remember… We should probably go see the Doctor,” she suggested.

He sat down on the bed. “Are we on Earth?”

“Yes, we got home a little over a year ago. We really should go see the Doctor and find out what is wrong….”

He didn’t want to do that. If he had slipped into some alternate reality, he wanted to know more about it. He had to know more about this life he had that, until this moment, he had only dreamed about. “Wait, just tell me, maybe this is just temporary and talking to me will help.”

“Do you remember the Antarian cider?”

He did, but from what he remembered, it was following another series of nights that had ended with pleasant good nights at her door. He nodded, not making comment on his version of events.

“Well, that night… it was our first time together. Everything fell into place and it just felt right. It was one of the best nights of my life. Any of the concerns I had about the ship and the crew never manifested. It was you I was most worried about. How would you deal with my being put into a dangerous situation, but that happened and you surprised me. When the chips were down, your priority fell to the safety and well-being of the crew, just as mine always has. I was never so proud of you because I knew how hard it must have been. In several ways, it was like we were separate extensions of the same person but coming together made us whole and stronger.”

She paused for a smile, reflecting on memories he didn’t share. “When we got home, we both turned down commissions to stay grounded and I honestly don’t know what the more celebrated event was: Voyager’s return home or our marriage. The press and tabloids still call it the wedding of the century. I don’t know if I believe that, but it was certainly the talk of the town. We both agreed to continue to do minimal ambassador and liaison work and took positions teaching at the Academy. One week ago, I learned from the Doctor I was pregnant. Last night at our Christmas party I gave you the positive test results on a PADD wrapped in silver and gold paper and ribbon as a present.”

He didn’t remember a single bit of it. From his perspective he had just gone to bed and fallen asleep on Voyager in 2378. The dinner she had mentioned with the Antarian cider had been a little over a week ago and he had still been feeling a bit disappointed that the evening had not turned out differently. Just another series of disappointments in their relationship he bottled up and tried to forget about. He was coming to believe that promises made between them years before on New Earth had been long forgotten and discarded without his having been notified. He had held onto hope, but the longer they were in the Delta Quadrant, the more restless he was becoming that he had seemingly set his sights on a pedestal that was far higher than his reach ever could be.

But, if this was what his life was, if this was some alternate reality where he and Kathryn were happily, blissfully married and had a child on the way, he didn’t want to go back. He knew it was selfish and it was his duty to learn what had happened and correct it for the sake of the timeline, but he didn’t care.

“You still don’t remember?” She watched his reaction and read the answer. “Well, that’s that. We are going to see the Doctor. I’ll get dressed.”

He watched as she left the room, enjoying the sway of her perfectly round buttocks, the way her still-damp hair tumbled down her back into loose curls, the long, chiseled legs… he wanted to lay her down on the bed and love her the way he had always dreamed.

“Such a vision of beauty. I should have mated with her when I had the opportunity. Even if we hadn’t been compatible, all the fun seems to be in the trying anyway…”

Chakotay’s blood ran cold at the familiar voice. “Q!” he growled, reaching for the blanket off the bed to shield his nudeness.

Q cackled. “You needn’t bother disguise your inadequacies, Commander Chuckles. Maybe catching a glimpse of your lack of offering is what kept the real Kathryn away after being marooned on, what was the nostalgic moniker you gave that planet? New Earth? But I digress, you really should have seen the look on your face when you saw her step out of the shower. I have never seen someone so starved for the love of a woman.”

“I should have known you were involved. What the hell have you done?”

“Relax, Chuckles. I haven’t hurt anyone, and the timeline is perfectly fine. You and I are taking a little jaunt into Christmas future. For whatever reason, I have decided to do you a favor. Maybe the traditions of this quaint little holiday appeals to my sensitive side. Or maybe it is because I owe Kathryn big time for all her help with Junior and I always repay my debts. Whatever the reason, my generous heart has decided to help you get your head out of your rear and take a glimpse into Christmases of the future… or at least possible ones,” Q explained.

“When have you ever been generous?”

Q snapped his fingers and the full-length mirror changed and showed Kathryn, the Kathryn he knew on Voyager. She sat on the couch in her quarters, staring out the viewport with silver tears glistening on her cheeks. Music softly drifted through the mirror and he recognized it as Christmas carols and that is when he realized that she had a little decorated Christmas tree on the coffee table, but no presents underneath it. In her hands, she stroked the fur of the little medicine bundle he had given to her that first Christmas. Wiping the tears from her eyes, he watched as she opened it and he couldn’t help but gasp as he realized the only items in it were his photograph and one of the broken bug traps from New Earth.

“Regardless of what I may think of you, Chuckles, I can’t stand to see her so miserable over something she can have but has convinced herself she can’t.”

“Me?”

“Happiness, you dolt, even if her happiness means being with you. Though how she could pick you over a God like me… I will never know.”

“Are you telling me that this future, here, on Earth is what awaits me?” Chakotay asked, edging on excitement.

“Keep it in your pants… uh, blanket there, Chuckles. This is one of many possibilities. According to tradition, I will show you three possibilities,” Q replied.

“Isn’t it supposed to be the Christmases past, present and future?” he questioned, remembering the Charles Dickens story from his childhood.

“Bah humbug, my way is more fun. Being omnipotent means having the ability to bend the rules when I see fit. Oh, and speaking of rules, there is only one that applies to you during this little activity. You are to play along until I return for you. Are you ready?” Q asked, raising his ‘magic’ fingers.

Chakotay looked longingly towards the door through which this Kathryn had disappeared to get dressed to take him to the Doctor. He didn’t really want to see any other future; he wanted to stay in this one, with this Kathryn. Or at least know what decisions he had to make to achieve this future.  
“Human testosterone is so overrated.” Q rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers.

******

“Two of Three, hang that ornament precisely fifteen centimeters from the bottom of the tree. One of Three, the ribbon on that package is too long. It needs to be trimmed and tied again. Three of Three, discontinue your activity immediately.”

Chakotay looked around, still very discombobulated from the sudden change in scene. Now he was in a living room as spacious and cavernous as one of Voyager’s cargo bays. The room was gray, decorated very sparsely and did not at all feel homey. In the center of the room was a very incredible Christmas tree decorated in a very traditional but very dull style: silver tinsel, white lights, and silver bulbs without so much as a pop of color. The packages were wrapped in gray paper with silver bows.

“Two of Three, I said fifteen centimeters from the bottom of the tree, not twelve centimeters.”

As he absorbed the surroundings, he was left speechless and quite disturbed as he watched Seven of Nine directing the little collective of children around her. She looked incredible in her white catsuit with her long hair down around her shoulders, though stern and rigid. He wondered whose children they were until he looked closer and realized that they shared his dark skin and eyes but had her brilliant blonde hair. The boy, the eldest of the group at about six years old, shared his tribal tattoo above his eye while the two girls, approximately ages four and three, seemed to be without the marking, though the one decorative ornament they wore was a necklace around their neck with a small charm that was a replica of the chamoozie. Each little girl wore a catsuit like her mother though their hair was swept up in tight twists. The boy wore a suit, a bit more traditional, it was all black with the exception of a white tie. Upon looking down at himself, he realized he was dressed identical to his son.

“Three of Three, do not tie the tinsel into knots. That is unacceptable behavior.”

This insanity could not be his life, he just couldn’t believe it. He was married to Seven and they had a collective… uh children together? He was loathed to call it a family with how she was ordering them about like they were her own personal little collective. He would never allow such a thing!

“Husband, while the children finish the tree, we need to meet upstairs.”

He stared dumbly at her, realizing almost a moment too late that she had been addressing him. Did he no longer have a name? He wondered at the names of his children as well since she had only addressed them by their birth order not by their names.

“Are you not well?” she asked, wondering at his pause and confounded look.

“No. I am fine…” He didn’t know if she should call her Annika or Seven.

“Very well. Meet me in our sleeping chamber in exactly five minutes.”

He didn’t have time to protest as she turned on her heel, letting him know that the conversation would not continue. He was left to his own devices as he turned away from the children and wandered away from the living room. There weren’t any photographs on the walls, very little in the way of decorations. It didn’t look like a home he ever would live in.

It seemed like forever before he wandered down a hallway and found an office that must have been his due to the way it was decorated. Wood tones and tribal pieces told him that this was the one place in their home that was actually his. He stepped in and turned on the computer console. It only took a moment to access his personal logs and scanning back told him that Voyager had been home for nearly seven years. Seven’s little dating experiment had progressed and about the time they arrived home they discovered that she was pregnant. They had married almost immediately which apparently in this timeline he had thought was the _best thing to do_. As he read, he learned that his children were named Joseph, Rebecca and Rachel. Seven had picked biblical names from the Catholic faith which was in such stark contrast to his own heritage and her indoctrination in science. He skimmed through his struggles to take the Borg out of the woman, to break through her ice-maiden exterior. He detailed the disappointments abound in his marriage and his fading relationship with Kathryn. She had been, for so long, the guiding light in his life and that light seemed to progressively grow dimmer. He stopped on one particular log that caused his heart to stop.

_“Kathryn got married today. How could I not go? I went. I congratulated her and kissed her on the cheek but inside, I was dying. How did we go wrong? That should have been us! That could have… to hell with it.”_

He could see the distress on his face and the anger in his own eyes as he recorded the log. So, Kathryn was married and not to him. He could already tell that this was not the timeline he wanted to end up in.

Remembering the timeline, he left the office and headed for the stairs. He peeked in and saw the children still working on the tree. Against his better judgment, he headed upstairs to locate his wife and their bedroom. He had no idea what she had planned or what she wanted to see him about, but apparently they needed to be away from the children.

When he walked into the room, he regretted it. Seven stood beside the bed, nude. He felt a twitch at his groin, though he wouldn’t have been a man if he didn’t feel something. She was the vision of womanly perfection. Not a single scar, mark or blemish marred her skin. Her large, full breasts sat so perfectly on her chest that they looked as though they had been sculpted from marble. The same could be said about the rest of her, too. Michelangelo himself couldn’t have sculpted anything more perfect so that must have made the Doctor an artist as well since he had worked on her after she was disconnected from the Borg. The only reminder that she was not a sculpture come to life were the mechanical implants that could have very well been mistaken for elaborate, albeit alien, jewelry.

“It is time for us to copulate.”

That took all of the arousal right out of his body. “Excuse me?”

“We have fifteen minutes before the arrival of the guests. My body is at the optimal state for conception currently and if we wish to increase our family collective, it is necessary to copulate now,” she stated. “You may proceed with foreplay.”

“I can’t do this, Seven.”

“Do you not desire to increase our family collective? Shall I lie down on the bed and prepare for…”

“No, I don’t think this is the right time,” he replied, growing more uncomfortable. He had never, ever been as uncomfortable about the subject of sex as he was right in that moment.

“You are incorrect. According to the scan I performed on myself, the conditions in my body are optimal for conception,” she countered. “Will it arouse you to watch me manually stimulate myself?”

“Is it always like this? What about passion?”

“Passion is irrelevant. Conception is a biological function of the female partner within a marital union.” What a sad state for a marriage to be in. She was so frigid, so cold. He wondered if anything roused that icy blood of hers. Had she ever experienced a fit of passion? He almost turned away, but an idea struck him. Nothing in this timeline mattered anyway since this was just another of Q’s games. He crossed the room in two strides, wrapped this nude, stiff body of Seven in his arms and locked his mouth on hers, kissing her with all of the passion he could muster, privately envisioning himself kissing Kathryn. But Seven never melted. The way she returned the kiss was smooth, mechanical and almost practiced. She remained stiff and cold in his arms, more like an object than a woman he could possibly love. When he pulled back, he gazed at her, trying to read her. But there was nothing. Emptiness. He felt as though he were holding a hologram in his arms, or a machine. Then he felt her hand at his groin.

“You are not prepared to copulate now? Perhaps it would be helpful if I were to stimulate you orally.”

 _Spirits, no!_ “No. I think perhaps another time would be better,” he replied, retreating from her.

“I disagree. According to my research, we have already exceeded the recommended age gap between our youngest child and the next child in our family collective. It is essential that I conceive this month should we not want to increase that age gap.”

“Seven, I think one more month would not make a difference. Besides, I think our children will be fine no matter what their age gap so long as they have a loving, nurturing environment to flourish in,” he said. He couldn’t copulate with her. “And we don’t have enough time. Our guests will be arriving in short order.”

“Of course. We must prepare for the Admiral and her husband for Christmas dinner.”

Chakotay had no clue it was possible to choke on air, but he nearly did in that moment. “Admiral, as in Admiral Janeway?”

Seven gave him a curious look as she retrieved her catsuit. “Have you forgotten the Christmas Eve tradition we established? We make dinner for the Admiral every year.”

In many ways, he did not want to see how this played out, but then again, he did. And, before he could call out for Q to rescue him from this situation, the door chimed, and he was stuck. “I will go down and greet her so you can get dressed.”

It was a welcome reprieve to escape from the bedroom but when he opened the door to invite Kathryn and her husband in, he almost wished he would have stayed upstairs and copulated with his wife. Opening the door, he found himself staring at Kathryn in her dress uniform and a man dressed in a suit next to her. It took him only a moment to recognize the man from the photo that once sat on her desk. Mark. This was Mark Johnson. It didn’t matter if he had been Jean-Luc Picard. Chakotay knew he was destined to hate her husband no matter who he was, but it seemed to add insult to injury that it was Mark whose arms she had found her way back to. Even after his marriage to another woman and his Dear Kathryn letter. Or perhaps that had never happened in this timeline.

“Chakotay, it is a pleasure to see you,” she greeted him, perhaps a little too coolly.

“Kathryn…”

“You remember meeting my husband Mark, don’t you?” she asked as he offered his hand.

“Of course. Merry Christmas,” he said, shaking his hand firmly, then opening the door to invite them in. “Seven will be down in a few moments. The children were just finishing the tree.” He didn’t know this woman, didn’t even know what to say to her. He was incredulous that she was even here in his home after all that had apparently happened between them.

Sitting through dinner was excruciating. The stiff, polite conversation, the children that were more like automatons than machines, the wife that was stoic and the husband that went out of his way to be sugary sweet: Chakotay found the entire event sickening and he gathered that Kathryn did as well. She seemed diplomatic above the table, but below… well, her toes creeping up his inner thigh were enough to amuse her. He wondered exactly what was going on and how she maintained her poker face.

“Shall I get another bottle of wine and dessert?” he suggested, desperately needing a moment away from the table.

In the kitchen, he thought he would be. He stood at the counter, cold and steel, trying to calm himself and gain a center. “Alright Q, this is enough.” But Q did not answer his plea.

“Did you say something?”

Chakotay turned around, finding himself face to face with Kathryn. “Kathryn, what…”

“How long are we going to continue this charade, Chakotay?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You pretending to love this sterilized life, me pretending to be happy. You know I only married Mark because… well I didn’t want to be alone. I held up my part of the bargain but, you obviously didn’t, getting her knocked up while we were still on Voyager,” she stated, circling the counter so she was less than a meter from him.

“What’s done is done.”

“So, you have said time and time again, yet we maintain this dinner tradition just so we can steal a few minutes together when they pass out after drinking too much wine. I can’t keep doing this year after year.”

What exactly was she saying? That every year when their significant others passed out after indulging in wine, they had a late-night fling? It turned his stomach to think that he and Kathryn were trapped in unhappy marriages and cheating on their spouses as Christmas gifts to one another.

“It’s okay, Kathryn. We don’t have to do this. The tradition can end here and now.”

“So, you’ll leave her?”

She completely misunderstood what he meant.

“No. I think we should just be faithful to our vows. I don’t know why this was carried on as long as it has been.” He watched as she seemed to crumble at his words, and he felt like a real horse’s ass.

“Don’t you understand, Chakotay? Our night, this night is something I look forward to, it is the one reprieve I have from a life I despise. Please, I know you are just as miserable as I am. Let’s run away. We can go anywhere in the universe, so long as it is away from here. I will resign, we will take a runabout and go.”

He couldn’t believe his ears. Kathryn begging him to run away with her? It was just a ridiculous idea! But a tempting one, except for the fact that he was a man of honor and of his word and he had taken a vow. He had three children with Seven and while it may have been a miserable life, he couldn’t just abandon them, particularly the children. “No, Kathryn, I can’t.” He watched as she recoiled as though he had punched her in the gut.

“Interesting… very interesting. Here she is begging you to run away with her, yet you choose to stay and live in a passionless marriage to a cold, unfeeling Borg who has turned your children into her own private collective. How long before she starts feeding them nanoprobes for breakfast?”

It always took him a few moments to register what was happening when Q froze time and space. He turned and found the omnipotent jerk circling Kathryn like a vulture, a rather sick vulture, ridiculously dressed in a Santa suit.

“Look at her face. I don’t think I have ever seen her in so much pain and, all because you won’t leave that metallic doll that walks and talks.”

Chakotay swallowed back his anger and irritation. “I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to see this anymore. Take me back to my time.”

“No, I don’t think so. Not yet. You have to see one last thing.”

“Q, I’m not playing anymore,” he insisted. He was disgusted by this life and he couldn’t imagine if he had put him through something worse.

“Oh, I think you may want to see this last one. Come on, be a good sport,” Q pleaded, his Santa hat askew on his head.

Against his better judgment, he nodded his head.

******

“She was so lonely, I just wish there was something we could have done.”

“If only she had opened up to us a little more.”

“We tried. All those years ago when I invited her to join us for a little fun off duty even though everyone said I shouldn’t… well I had hoped that would help.”

“I wish she had been able to see how much she meant to him before… well, before he got stupid and let his male anatomy do the thinking.”

“She knew, deep down, I think she knew. I just wish he had waited for her. I always figured once we got home, they would get their acts together.”

“Apparently she never really meant that much to him after all.”

“What a lousy way to remember Christmas. I can’t believe she became so lonely that she would…”

“Loneliness can do terrible things to people. All those years alone, then coming back home only to find that what she longed for wasn’t here waiting… I think finding out her mother died only days before we returned really didn’t help. Then to lose her sister in that accident a couple of months later…”

“She changed after that. Everyone knew it, but when anyone tried to ask her what was going on, she just laughed and said she was fine; adjusting to her new grounded roll as an admiral. It was the same old excuse. I think the birth of their baby was what sent her over the edge though. And naming her Kathleen was the worst.”

“It was almost like rubbing it in her face asking her to be the Godmother. How could they do that to her?”

“Adding insult to injury if you ask me. They had even asked her to officiate the wedding, which she was conveniently off planet for. I heard from my father that she had actually locked herself in a bed and breakfast in Ireland under a fake name with a bottle of whiskey so she wouldn’t have to deal with it.”

Chakotay’s eyes finally focused and he found himself in a graveyard. It was deep into the night and the snow had begun to fall. He found himself staring at three figures gathered around a headstone. They were cloaked in black, but he knew their voices: Tom Paris, B’Elanna Torres-Paris and Harry Kim.

They stood silent then, but he had a feeling he knew what they were talking about, or rather who they were talking about and it made him feel ill. He could never picture the Kathryn he knew committing suicide, but from what he had just heard, she had been dealt one lonely blow after another until she couldn’t take any more. Losing him to Seven she may have been able to get over but losing her mother and sister… it must have just been too much to deal with alone. He felt like such an ass. He had promised. A long, long time before he had told her she was not alone. That he would do whatever he could to make her burden lighter. He had forgotten his promise and it had led to this.

“Can you believe he didn’t even come to the funeral? One year later and I am still pissed at him for that.”

“I commed him to tell him what I thought of him and the yellow bastard wouldn’t even face me. Seven made excuses claiming he was ill, but I don’t believe that.”

“He knew what we would all think. Can you believe that Seven actually convinced him to move to Vulcan? Can you see Chakotay living on Vulcan?”

“Good riddance.”

“Come on, guys, we should get to the party.”

“Yeah, party. A bunch of Voyager’s former crew sitting around getting drunk. Not much of a Christmas with tonight being the one-year anniversary of her death.”

“I think we owe it to her to try to have a good time. All those years Neelix talked her into this party and that party, I don’t think he had to be all that convincing. I really think she wanted for us to have a good time to try to keep our morale up, but what she didn’t realize is that she was always welcome.”

"Maybe if she had, she would still be here.”

The three stood in silence for a few more moments before B’Elanna leaned down and laid a bouquet of flowers on the headstone. “Rest easy, Admiral. You deserve peace,” she whispered before they turned to leave.

Chakotay ducked behind a hedgerow and waited for them to pass by as they left the cemetery. He knew that he was obviously not their favorite person in this timeline and thought it better not to have confrontation with them.

Once he was sure they were gone, he swallowed hard and approached the headstone. He had a sick feeling in his gut that he, well his alternate, had not prevented this. How could he stand by while she killed her loneliness with a bottle? How could he not be there for her when she learned her mother had died; then lost her sister? Sure, as of now he had gone out with Seven a couple of times, but only as part of her dating exercise. It was platonic and he had absolutely no intentions of pursuing the relationship beyond a social exercise. He just couldn’t fathom it turning into anything more, let alone marriage and a family! Yet in two of the timelines Q had dropped him into, he had married her. And he had completely forgotten to consider how his Kathryn viewed his friendship with Seven. And then, how did Seven actually view this exercise? Could she actually have feelings for him?

He was an ass. It was no longer just a comment or a suspicion. He truly was an ass. He hadn’t really considered all of the circumstances when he had agreed to help Seven with her social exercises. What had he been thinking agreeing to that? A diversion from boredom? Had he thought about something more, maybe subconsciously? Had the loneliness and yearning for Kathryn allowed him to agree to help Seven because deep down he was starved for some female affection and company?

Chakotay dropped to his knees before the headstone. In this timeline, Kathryn had committed suicide one year ago. It was Christmas Eve. He laid his hand against the cold marble, tracing her name with his finger as though it would let him touch her essence, bring her close to him once again. Looking down into the snow, he picked up the single white rose petal that had been orphaned from the bouquet of flowers B’Elanna had lain on the grave.

“I’m sorry Kathryn. I forgot my promise to you leaving you to carry the torch for both of us. I failed you.” He felt the tears, cold as ice on his cheeks. Part of him wanted to lay down right there on her grave and die with her, but deep inside he knew that this wasn’t his reality, at least not yet.

******

Very unceremoniously, he found himself sitting on his knees in the warmth of his quarters. Not a single word from Q. No parting commentary, no dark quips, not a single jaded moral or lesson for the sequence of events he had experienced. Chakotay felt that familiar sense of disorientation as he wondered if the whole thing had been a hellacious nightmare, but the velvety soft rose petal in his palm reminded him that none of it had been a dream.

Dragging himself to his feet, he made his way to his coffee table where her beautiful, leather bound copy of Dante’s Inferno rested. He opened the cover and turned to the page held the passage: “In the middle of the journey of our life, I found myself again in a dark wood, that the straightway was utterly lost.” It was upon those words that he laid the rose petal, a reminder for later years should he ever find himself lost again.

Many Years Later:

Kathryn picked up the familiar volume, bound in antique leather with real paper pages made from the ancient practice of milling trees. How she loved to hold the book in her hands, run her fingers along the seams and bindings, feel the crispness of the pages as they slid between her fingers, caress the softness of the leather. It didn’t matter to her that years before a man she had fallen out of love with had given it to her as a gift. Of all the few material things she held onto, this book was one she cherished. In many ways, it was metaphorically her story. The journey of Voyager through the Delta Quadrant was akin to Dante’s journey through the Inferno. Her personal struggles with demons external and internal, the battles of good versus evil… she was all too familiar with those tales of survival.

This book had weathered so many storms with her, had been with her for trials and triumphs. And now, things were more triumphant than not. Even as silver painted highlights into her hair and the lines in her face seemed to be etched permanently, she was not disheveled by these modest signs of age. Life had worn its lines into her, had left its traces on her as it did on all good things, including the book in her hands. But time had not been an enemy or a wolf snapping at her heels for a good many year. Back in the Delta Quadrant, it seemed that the very essence of death had surrounded them like a mist, a forever reminder that the odds of their ever making a return to see their families or their homes were practically non-existent. She never failed to be amazed at the memory that the journey had only lasted a tenth of what it should have had they taken the long way. But, at the same time, those seven years, a monumental amount of living—and dying—had been done. A boy became a man. A misfit became a trusted advisor. A man of no emotion learned to be weak. A frigid machine learned to love a child. A prisoner found freedom. A tormented soul found love. A beam of light became human. A child found her destiny. An angry warrior learned peace. A stubborn oak learned to bend.

She never could have dreamed when she set out to capture her enemy that she would fall in love with him, learn to give a little, and that today she would be attending their oldest granddaughter’s graduation from the Academy. Her graduation present to her was the book she held in her hands. Soon, she wouldn’t have any use for it herself and she felt that for a child who had grown up going against the grade at every opportunity and was now embarking on a future of glorious wonders and periods of uncertainty, it was the perfect present. She flipped open the cover and turned to one of her favorite passages. Truth be told, she hadn’t opened the book in years since she practically had it memorized. As she flipped the previous page, she found a paper thin, white rose petal. It had yellowed with age, but she knew what it was. It was as fine and delicate as a sheet of antique rice paper.

“Kathryn, are you ready to go?”

She looked up through still vibrant blue eyes at the man she loved and had slept next to for the last nearly fifty years. She still felt a swell of love within her heart every time he was near. Age had changed his appearance, but she didn’t care. His hair had turned silver and started to fall out. But she loved him still. His face was wrinkled and sagged with age. It didn’t matter. He was hers and she was his and that was all that mattered in the world to her.

“Chakotay, where did this come from?”

A smile slowly spread across his face of a memory she didn’t share, and a twinkle lit his eyes. “I had almost forgotten,” he whispered. “Q, you devil…”

“Q? What does that omnipotent pest have to do with my book and a rose petal?” she asked, confused. It had been a good ten years since she had last seen his likeness, ever clad in his Captain’s uniform, he still dropped in and paid a call on unwitting and unsuspecting captains and their crews. The guardian and guide for humanity or so he had taken to calling himself. She much preferred when his son dropped by to pay her a visit. At least Junior had learned some manners from her and her crew over the years. A bit of humility, too. Good human qualities that hadn’t needed her genetics to imprint upon him.

"We haven’t the time, Kathryn. We don’t want to be late for Kiersten’s ceremony, but later, remind me to tell you the Christmas story of Q and the three futures and how, because of him, we are here today.”

She looked at him, puzzled as she gently stroked the rose petal once more; then placed it back in the book. For some reason, she had a feeling that was where it truly belonged. Maybe she would eventually be able to tell Kiersten the significance of the petal between the pages since she had a distinct feeling it was bound to be a remarkably interesting story indeed. For now, she accepted his arm and together they left their home to send off another of their descendants to her bright future.


End file.
